What You Deserve
by Mercedes88
Summary: After Ross has done the unthinkable, how can he possibly find a way to give Demelza what she deserves? Post S2 Epi 8 (Spoilers for U.S. viewers).
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: To those following my other Poldark story (A Demelza of His Own), don't worry, I'm not abandoning it. It just so happened that I was in a super angsty mood, and having seen some of the clips from the last episode that aired in the UK, this story came to mind. Now, I have a general idea of what's going to happen next on the show and am completely aware that this story would never happen. Still, it's one of the many scenarios that popped into my brain as I was thinking about current events on the show and how they could be resolved - or how I _wish_ they would be resolved.**

 **Hope you enjoy despite the angst of it all. If you have a moment, drop a line of review!**

* * *

 **What You Deserve**

Ross Poldark entered Nampara, much as he had done every day for the past week.

With shoulders slumped, head hung low, no joy in his step.

And a despair so deep, it swirled around him like a dark, ominous cloud. He pulled it into his lungs with each breath. He tasted it with each bite of food. He felt it crawling all over him, burrowing into him until it had become like a second skin.

How could he enter any other way?

His home, the very life he'd made – that he loved – with the _woman_ he loved, was tenuously hanging by a thread because of one foolish, reckless act.

And he had no one to blame but himself.

He deserved every once of anger, every hurtful word, each tearful outburst and every broken dish smashed against the wall. He even deserved her stony silence.

No, he had no one to blame but himself.

He'd been given an angel to love and cherish, and instead, he had taken every precious word between them, each loving moment, every ounce of trust and hope and had burned it to ash.

And for what? For a moment in a past that was never meant to be?

What he wouldn't give to undo what he'd done. To heal the wounds he had caused. To put back together the woman he had broken.

But he could not.

Only patience, time and love could do that.

If, in fact, it could be done at all.

He paused at the entrance and steeled himself for the deafening silence that was sure to greet him. Then, venturing into the parlor, Ross removed his hat and cast his gaze around taking note that the warmth usually permeating the room was eerily absent.

As was the source of that warmth, the very heart of his home.

A sense of foreboding slithered through him, setting his teeth on edge.

"Prudie? Where's Demelza?" Ross asked when his gaze finally settled on their disheveled servant as she sat in front of the fire playing with Jeremy.

Prudie struggled to her feet as Jeremy waved a greeting in Ross' direction then promptly resumed building his architectural masterpiece with little wooden blocks, wholly unconcerned with the turmoil roiling the two people that had given him life.

"She be gone, sir." Prudie answered after dropping a quick curtsy in Ross' direction.

"Gone? Gone where?" Though not intended, his voice sharpened.

"Didn't say, sir." Her head bowed slightly, Prudie's gaze slipped from his face as she delivered her next bit of news. "Took off nearly three hours ago."

"Three hours?" Ross felt his chest tighten with panic. That sense of foreboding solidified, took root and began to grow. He immediately knew something was wrong. _Very_ wrong. "What happened?"

"Not sure, sir." Prudie answered, her face reddening under his intense scrutiny. "She left shortly after her…visitor. Said she needed to be alone."

"Visitor." Ross repeated, his mind in overdrive. Whose presence could have driven Demelza from her own home for such a length of time? Only one name came rushing to mind. "Who was here, Prudie?"

"Sir, I…"

He took a menacing step forward, his eyes hard as coal, his tone demanding. "Who. Was. Here?"

Prudie swallowed hard before whispering a name that had become like a curse within the walls of Nampara. "Mistress Elizabeth Poldark, sir."

Having his worst fears confirmed, Ross Poldark spun on his heels and stormed out of the house without another word.

Tbc…


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Thanks to everyone for the support you've shown this story with your reviews, favorites and follows. Below is the next chapter - a confrontation between Demelza and Elizabeth. Now, again, this doesn't follow the books and maybe not even the show (not sure how they're going to handle the upcoming episodes), but _if_ Elizabeth did make an effort to _not_ repeat the past by actually trying to secure her position in Ross' life, this is one of the ways I can see her trying to do that. I also know that, given the time period, there weren't that may options open to women in Demelza's situation, but I'll hopefully deal with that in the next chapter. Also, I could kinda hear both Demelza and Elizabeth's voices in my head as I wrote this so hopefully they are not too OOC. **

**Hope you enjoy! Would love to hear your feedback if you get a chance to drop a line of review!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 _Three hours earlier…_

After initial bouts of white hot anger and extended periods of countless tears in those first few days, a certain sense of calm had enveloped Demelza Poldark.

It was not a calm born of peace or even resignation.

She was simply wrung out. Listless. Weary.

If numbness _can_ be felt, she felt it to her very bones.

And her heart? It felt as if it had stopped beating.

It was in that emotionless state that Demelza's mind began to process just how impossible her situation was.

She was married to a man who clearly loved another. Had _always_ loved her. Most likely, always would. And though Ross and Demelza had been happy for a time, what he felt for her now was _not_ as clear. Now that he'd been with Elizabeth, there was a very real chance he would choose to go to her again. Perhaps forever. And if that was his choice, there was precious little Demelza could do to stop him. He would have his pleasure, and she would bear the brunt of pitying glances and scathing whispers. And if, by miracle of miracles, he stayed by Demelza's side while longing for another…

Well, that simply wasn't a life Delemza wanted for herself. Not anymore.

But what was she do? What _could_ she do?

Trapped.

She was hopelessly, endlessly trapped.

Not just by the situation or societal convention, but by her love for Ross.

As much as she might hate him now for what he'd done, she knew deep down that he was still the master of her heart. For she could not hate him so if she did not love him all the more.

And because of that…

There was no escape.

There was no path forward.

And so, with numbness as her companion and these impossible thoughts swirling in her mind, Demelza found herself unexpectedly ambushed when she opened the door to find Elizabeth waiting on the other side. Stunned and unable to react quickly, Demelza allowed into her home the very woman responsible for destroying it.

Perched on the bench in the parlor, Elizabeth began the visit, all sweetness and light, as if she'd never felt the press of Ross' body against hers. "I hope you don't mind my dropping by like this. I was anxious to get out of the house and thought perhaps to stop in and thank you for the kindnesses you've shown to myself and Geoffrey Charles since Francis' passing."

Demelza's jaw worked as she bit back a sharp retort. Wholly unsure of what Elizabeth meant by such a visit, she knew there was a purpose: Ross. Knowing Elizabeth as she did, she surmised that it may take a few turns around the niceties of societal conversation before getting to the heart of her visit, but get there she would.

And so, with a sort of detached interest, Demelza played along.

"Francis was a good man. He is sorely missed." She managed evenly, meaning every word.

"Yes, he is." Elizabeth agreed with a bittersweet smile. "He liked you a great deal. You may not know that, but…"

"I knew." Demelza stopped her. "At least near the end, I knew. He and I, despite our differences, had _much_ in common."

If Elizabeth understood the underlying message of Demelza's delivery, she showed no sign of it.

"He said the wisest decision Ross ever made was marrying you." Elizabeth continued, her gaze lowering to the lily white hands folded so neatly in her lap. "Of course, that was a conversation overheard. He would have never said such a thing to _me_."

Surprised Elizabeth had managed to bring Ross' name into the conversation so soon and in such a way – intimating their past connection – Demelza's eyes narrowed, assessing. "I'm sure."

Elizabeth hastened on as if sensing she had touched too close to a subject that should not be breached. At least not yet. "What he _did_ tell me was that he thought you had an unconventional, but wise, way at looking at life, at love. A trait I'm sure you exhibited when you reunited Verity with Andrew Blamey."*

"If by that you mean that I believe two people who truly love each other should be together, obstacles be damned, then, yes, I'm sure that _is_ unconventional. To some." Though the events of the past days, weeks, months had tested her own faith near to the breaking point, if not beyond, Demelza could not deny the truth of the words, even as she spoke them.

Despite all, she still believed in love. She still believed in trust and hope and a constancy that would not fail. If she did not, Ross' infidelity would not have had such a devastating effect on her. If not, she could easily let Ross go on his merry way to Elizabeth without a care or a hint of danger to her heart.

But that was not the case.

And so, thought Demelza, it seemed she was trapped by her own stubborn beliefs as well.

Seizing on Demelza's philosophy, Elizabeth's eyes brightened. "Do you truly believe that? I, myself, admired Verity's strength of conviction in running away to marry Andrew, though I could not say so at the time." Her gaze shifted to the fire blazing in the fireplace and a far distant past as her voice gentled with remembrance. "It made me long for a time when I too had a choice, but did not have the strength to stand and fight for what I wanted."

"You mean Ross." Demelza surmised quickly and accurately. Then she took the obvious logical leap. "Is that why you're here, Elizabeth? So as to not repeat the mistakes of the past?"

Demelza's insightful question, the tension in her face, her knowing gaze, was enough to fuel Elizabeth's suspicions.

Sitting alone in the vast, lifeless rooms of Trenwith these past six days, Elizabeth had a growing sense of déjà vu. She had been here once before. At a crossroads, with two paths from which to choose. Hoping, expecting, waiting for a gallant shadow to appear in her doorway. Back then, as now, she was not legally bound, and as such, free to choose her life's partner. Back then, she had been persuaded by Francis' good nature, his overwhelming love for her, her mother's words. In the face of Ross' absence, she had chosen wrongly.

Now, her choice was clear.

As was the obstacle to its fulfillment.

That Ross had not come to her now as he'd promised set Elizabeth on edge. With her proposal to George Warleggen freshly fixed, she needed reassurance that Ross felt what she felt, wanted what she wanted. For if she had that, she would defy the world to be with him.

Her own lack of courage had kept her from him the first time. This time, their separation would not be her doing.

"Demelza, may we speak openly?" Elizabeth ventured.

"I rarely speak any other way."

"I thought perhaps you and I should come to an…" She paused as if trying to choose the right word. Having found it, she continued. "… _understanding_. If we can."

"Oh? What kind of understanding?" Though her tone was light, Demelza felt a foreboding shift in the air around her.

Until this moment, with conversation light, she and Elizabeth had been on equal footing. But something in Elizabeth's practiced demeanor changed, sharpened, belying the friendliness of her tone.

Demelza was instantly wary.

"An understanding about what's best for Ross. What he needs…"

Another sharp retort sprang to Demelza's lips. This time she did not stop its escape. "One night in Ross' arms and all of a sudden you're an expert on what my husband needs? How enlightened of you."

Suspicions confirmed, Elizabeth's pale blue eyes flashed like glinting steel. Demelza _knew_ what had transpired between Ross and Elizabeth. She knew and she must hate them both for it.

Each woman measured the other as if sizing up an opponent before charging into battle.

To Elizabeth's eyes, Demelza was the obstacle that must be removed if she were to gain her happiness with Ross. Even if she liked Demelza, and she _did_ like her, despite recent hostilities, she would not hesitate to claim her stake on Ross' heart, in his life. She only hoped that Demelza would see reason and acquiesce to what was meant to be. After all, at the end of the day, Demelza was nothing more than a scullery maid. Surely, she must know that she and Ross could not last forever.

The Elizabeth sitting before Demelza was a far cry from the Elizabeth that had welcomed her to Trenwith with a smile and open arms. This Elizabeth was cunning, calculating. Demelza wondered now if she'd always been so, or had she learned the art of deception through years of hiding her true self. Or still yet, was it the prize she was fighting to win that brought out the manipulator in her?

In the end, it didn't matter. Demelza had always wanted to prove herself to be fit to be called a lady. In this interview, she instinctively knew her greatest battle would not be with Elizabeth. It would be with herself and the doubts Ross' actions had put in her mind.

"So, you know then." Elizabeth stated the obvious.

"I knew before he left me that night."

"I see." Elizabeth blinked in surprise as she was sure Ross didn't even know what the outcome of his visit would be. Clearing her mind of the thought, Elizabeth ventured onward, her destination clear. "I suppose this is where I should apologize, but, in truth, what happened between Ross and me that night, it was…inevitable. Surely, you must see that."

"Must I?"

"Demelza, Ross and I have loved each other going on neigh a decade. We were each other's first love, from the moment we laid eyes on each other. We have the kind of devotion that dies so slowly, I dare say, it may never die at all." After having established her previous and forever claim on Ross, she moved on to the objective of her call. "Still, no matter what he _feels_ , what he _really_ wants, Ross will never leave you. He's too honorable for that."

"But not too honorable to stay out of the pleasure of your bed." Demelza retorted.

"Demelza, please. Let us not be coarse." Feigning offense, Elizabeth tried to soften the blow of her words with compliments, even if they were distasteful to utter. "I know you've made him happy in the past, but how long can that really last?"

"You mean, why would he want a cornflower when he could have a rose?" Demelza queried, conjuring up a conversation between them years before in this very room. If she'd felt the sting of Elizabeth's words then, they cut even more deeply now. For now, it seemed a rose is exactly what Ross _did_ prefer.

But she'd be damned if she'd let Elizabeth know that.

"You think because I'm not as high born or cultured as you that I have nothing to offer him. That he can't love me properly or that he doesn't need me." A wry smile touched Demelza's lips. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you're not. Either way, he's still _my_ husband."

Elizabeth expected resistance and was prepared. The syrupy sweetness of her tone hide the poison in her words. "And why is that, dear? You know as well as I that he didn't marry you for love. He married you out of a sense of honor, of obligation, after a moment of weakness. You've been to him a distraction, a way to _try_ to forget _me_."

Demelza felt her heart constrict at her words. For were they not almost the same words Ross had once uttered? Was Elizabeth voicing her own opinion or echoing a confession made in the heat of a moment or over a shared pillow? Though Demelza had proof enough through the years of Ross' love, his affection, his actions of late gave her little defense on which to protect herself from Elizabeth's assumptions.

So, Demelza remained silent, absorbing the blows, each in their turn.

Elizabeth continued. "Should he then remain so for the same reason? How would that be good for any of us? _I_ believe that if you would just let come to me…"

"I have not stopped him." Demelza interrupted with an enlightening piece of information. "If he has not darkened your door since that night, it is not of my doing."

Elizabeth seemed surprised by the news. Casting about for another explanation as to why Ross had not yet come to see her, she continued. "Perhaps, then it is his sense of obligation that keeps him from addressing me. Much as it did in the past."

 _Obligation._ There it was again. That word. That hideous word that meant Demelza was nothing more to Ross than a burden, a duty, a thing to be dealt with instead of cherished, loved.

Body tight with tension, Demelza fought the urge to engage Elizabeth. "The past?"

A dark eyebrow rose in surprise. "Has he never told you about what happened when he returned from America after the war?"

"Not the specifics." Demelza admitted, the implication that Ross had kept a part of himself – the part that belonged to Elizabeth and Elizabeth alone – from her, smarted to be sure, but did not fully wound. After all, Demelza had learned to live with little detail as he'd frequented Trenwith in the course of the past few months.

"He arrived at Trenwith the night our families were celebrating my engagement to Francis." Elizabeth explained, the bitterness of the memory lending a hardness to her usually full lips. "The news took him by surprise, to be sure, but he acted the gentleman and toasted our happiness. And then, he left, and I did not see him again until the wedding."

She paused, lost in her own thoughts, pain registering in her eyes. "I often wondered why he did not come to me. Why he did not try to speak to me, determine if my feelings were still as true as they had been when he left. I knew he was angry and hurt, but…if he had just made the effort, what a difference our lives might have been."

Yes, how different, Demelza thought. There would have been no Julia or Jeremy to nurture. No Nampara to cultivate. No mine to worry over. Or Ross to love.

Because had Ross made the effort back then, there would have been no Demelza Poldark.

Demelza bristled. "If you're asking why he hasn't come to you now, I am in no position to aid your curiosity. He has spoken little of his intentions to me."

"Perhaps that is because his intentions are dependent upon _you_." Elizabeth offered.

"Meaning?"

"As his wife, you hold a certain power, and can influence him to act when otherwise he would not."

The obviousness of Elizabeth's train of thought, her leading statement was enough to make Demelza sick. Still, she wanted, no _needed_ , to hear for herself what Elizabeth intended. "And tell me, Elizabeth, to what action would you have me influence him?"

Elizabeth paused, a demure smile played on her lips. "I thought perhaps you would hold to your unconventional ways and do what's right…for all of us."

And there it was. The _real_ reason for Elizabeth's visit.

Demelza was beyond astonished. She was stunned. Amazed. Incensed.

To take a belief so fundamental to who Demelza was and turn it against her was…

Demelza wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to haul off and slap the stupid smile off Elizabeth's face. Hands clenched in her lap and the greatest restraint ever employed kept her from doing all of those things.

"You mean you want to me to go away, so that you can have Ross all to yourself without guilt or shame." Demelza stated, reading the obvious between the lines. A mirthless chuckle escaped her. "Not a chance in hell."

Elizabeth's expression turned sour.

"Demelza, please. Think about it. Do you really want to be with a man who will only grow to resent you for keeping him from what he truly wants? If, that is, he doesn't already." The pitying look that Elizabeth bestowed on Demelza was enough to make her see red. "Let him go, Demelza. For his sake. For yours."

" _My_ sake?"

"I know that you love Ross, but don't you think you owe it to yourself to find someone who will love you just as much, and above all others, as you deserve? The only way you can do that, Demelza, is to walk away. If it is security keeping you tied to him, I'm sure Ross will still provide for you, for Jeremy, and I certainly would not stop him from doing so…"

Beyond finished with the conversation and supposing that Elizabeth could not possibly have any more to say or further insult to give, Demelza abruptly stood. It took everything in her, all of her self-control, all of her willpower to keep her actions and tongue restrained against the viper sitting in her parlor. How Ross could ever love such a creature…

"I thank you for your frankness, and now…" Voice shaking with emotions she could not name, Demelza inclined her head toward the door. "...I must ask you to go."

"Of...course." Taken aback, Elizabeth's expression faltered, then she collected herself and rose gracefully, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I've overstayed my welcome and have given you much to think about."

"Yes, much." Demelza returned curtly.

"One more thing." Elizabeth paused, fishing in her clutch for a sealed parchment then held it out to Demelza. "If you would be so kind as to give this to Ross, I would be much obliged." When Demelza made no move to take it, Elizabeth offered a concession "You may read it if you like. I simply want to let Ross know that I have postponed my engagement to George."

Had Elizabeth just left as she was asked, Demelza might have considered her own actions admirable, even exemplary in the face of such an interview.

But she did not. And Demelza could not hold back any longer.

"Of course, you have." Demelza commented wryly, wondering why she was surprised by anything anymore. "Tell me, did you ever intend to wed him or was he just the means to an end for you?"

"I certainly don't know what you mean." Elizabeth bristled.

"Don't you?" Taking a slow, determined step forward, Demelza remained the picture of calm as she made her case, though her voice trembled with emotion. "You've been winding Ross up for months now. Playing on his sympathies, his affection for you, his sense of duty. Was it not enough that he took precious time and resources from his own home to aid yours?" Answering her own question, Demelza felt a sense of righteous indignation course through her. "Of course not. This is what you wanted all along, wasn't it?"

Flushed with anger, Elizabeth's tone sharpened for the first time. "How could you say such a thing?"

"Why else would you agree to marry Ross' sworn enemy? You knew what it would do to him sending that letter. You expected the reaction you got." Demelza's discerning gaze swept over Elizabeth. "You and your _grand_ love. All this time, playing games, manipulating situations, people." Toe to toe with Elizabeth, Demelza's eyes flared with a fire Elizabeth had never seen before. "I may have only had a part of Ross' heart, but what I have is pure and honest. For all I am worth, I would have _nothing_ of what _you_ call love."

"Demelza, please, just…" Unsettled, Elizabeth stepped back and attempted to give Demelza the letter once more. "...the letter."

Ignoring the proffered letter, disdain filtered through every syllable of Demelza's response. "I'll give him your message." She watched as Elizabeth withdrew her missive with an air of insult, then turned to make her exit. It was then that Demelza stopped her with a final word. "And Elizabeth? Until Ross installs you as mistress of Nampara, please do me the courtesy of _never_ darkening the doors of my home again."

As soon as the door slammed shut behind Elizabeth, the tension holding Demelza together drained. She crumbled to the floor. Tears once more began to flow. White hot anger began to burn in her.

The numbness she had felt, vanished.

And in its place was a fierce determination…

To seek an escape. To find a path forward.

To demand a love that she deserved.

Tbc…


	3. Chapter 3

Author note: Hi all, I know it's been forever, but I was going through files and realized the next few parts of this were nearly done. As I've mentioned before, this is my version of how I would have wanted things to go down, so Ross is a little more ashamed here than he was in the books/show.

Hope you enjoy. Would love to hear your feedback!

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

He had been searching for the better part of an hour when he finally found her.

A former soldier used to life and death battles, Ross Poldark was a man accustomed to taking risks, living on life's edge. And yet, in his entire life, he had never been so overwhelmed with panic or gripped by fear as when his search led to her usual haunts, but revealed nothing. Nor had he ever been so immensely relieved as when he finally spied her on the very cliff where he'd taken her to say good-bye to their Julia.

How different – and so very much the same – things were now compared to back then.

Fresh from losing their beloved daughter, they had both been so broken, in so much pain they could scarce breathe. But that's where the similarities ended. For back then, they had each other. To cling to. To face their loss. To grieve.

Together, as one.

Now, they were two broken pieces of a larger whole, flung so far from each other, Ross wondered how they would ever be put back together again.

Not at all sure of his welcome, Ross approached Demelza with a cautious step as she sat amidst the tall grass and hearty flowers, facing the ocean, her knees pulled to her chest, arms locked around them as if by that very act she was keeping herself from falling apart and being scattered by the wind.

"Demelza?"

If she heard him, she made no effort to show it. Ross stood uncertainly behind her, not sure how to proceed. For the briefest of moments, he considered jumping back on his horse as certain rejection seemed to be his fate.

But he couldn't walk away.

He didn't _want_ to walk away.

Through the trials of the past week, Ross Poldark had learned many truths and had been reminded of many others.

No matter his reception, whether the heat of anger and hate or the cold of her silence, anything _with_ Demelza was infinitely better than _anything_ without. And _that_ was one truth he would never forget again.

Decision made, Ross quietly took his place beside her. Glancing over, he took in her profile, his heart twisting at the sight.

The week had taken its toll. Her pale skin was now ashen. The dark circles under her eyes evidenced her sleepless nights. Her usually healthy, blushing cheeks had slimmed somehow, and her lips were drawn into a tight, unwavering line.

But it was her eyes that cut him the deepest.

Usually clear and full of laughter, warmth, they were dull and void of emotion.

"Pray I'm not intruding…it is late. I was worried." Ross started then stopped. Having been so focused on finding her, he had given little thought to what he would say once he had. Turning to face the waves cresting against ragged boulders below, Ross took some small comfort in the fact she hadn't run from him, hadn't demanded he go away.

As the tense silence stretched from seconds into minutes, Ross swallowed hard, knowing he needed to do something – anything – to bridge the obvious gap between them. If not for his own sake, certainly for hers.

"Demelza, please. This silence between us cannot go on forever."

At the plea in his voice, Demelza stirred, showing signs of life for the first time. Yet, when she spoke, it was with the lackluster voice of one whose grand illusions had been stripped away.

"You've been many things through the years, Ross, but I never took you for a coward."

Ross felt as if he'd been slapped in the face.

"What?"

"All those years ago, if you'd…swallowed your pride, your anger, if you'd just claimed what you felt for her…do you know how many lives would have been different? How many hearts wouldn't have had to break?" And in case he didn't, she made sure he knew each by name. "Francis. Now George. Even Elizabeth."

"And you. Have I broken _your_ heart?" It was a rhetorical question. One that he'd known the answer to the moment he saw her in the yard the morning he returned home from his fateful visit to Trenwith.

"Worse than my father's belt ever did."

Her words punched him in the gut with a force so great he found it hard to breathe.

Of all the new versions of Demelza that Ross had been introduced to since that night – the fierce spirit fueled with righteous anger, the wounded soul broken but too proud to bend – _this_ was the Demelza he understood the least. Because this Demelza was…

Detached. Resigned. Measured.

Uttering words, not in the heat of anger, but deliberate words. Words that wounded more deeply than careless phrases flung at him with deep emotion. And he hated himself for it. He hated that his actions had prompted the destruction of such a spirited soul.

After a few strained moments of silence, Ross regained enough equilibrium to forge ahead.

"Demelza, I wish…" Ross struggled to put together the thoughts that had been roiling his heart and mind since that night. "I wish I could explain to you what happened to me that night, the blind rage I was in, but I can't. I scarce understand it myself. But you have to know, you have to believe, hurting you is the last thing in the world I have _ever_ wanted to do."

"And yet you have. And now…" She was still so eerily indifferent, it was unnerving. "…as history appears to be repeating, you are proving once again to be less than the man I thought you to be."

As for Demelza, she had spent most of the past several days wallowing in so much hurt, so much anger, wishing to never see Ross' face again, relieved by his long absences, that she'd scarce thought of where he was spending his time. A part of her – a large part – assumed he was by Elizabeth's side, as he had always wished to be.

Though the grime of long hours in the mine and bone-weary sighs evidenced the opposite, it was safer for Demelza's heart to think such things. For a heart once crushed need not fear destruction.

Elizabeth's visit put everything into a whole new light. Erasing Demelza's assumptions. Making things messier than a simple choice to be made. For if he had not returned to Elizabeth after that fateful night, what did that mean?

What did she even _want_ it to mean?

She turned to him then, her expression inscrutable, but her eyes full of accusations. "Why haven't you gone to her, Ross? Are you ashamed to face what you've done? Certain it'll happen again? Or are you still too much of a coward to claim what you've wanted all along?"

Ross' expression crumbled at the pointed questions, the answer his heart screamed already on his lips. "I haven't gone because _my_ place is _here_ , Demelza. With _you_."

"Because you're my husband..." Demelza began.

"Yes."

And then finished. "….your duty won't allow you."

"My duty?" Shaking his head, Ross couldn't for the life of him understand the origin of her assumptions. Especially from the one person in the world that knew him even better than he knew himself. It was as if his love for her no longer held any weight. "No, Demelza, it is my _heart_ that keeps me by your side."

"Is that the same heart that carried you to _her_ that night?" Demelza's cutting gaze shifted from his face as she swallowed the bitter truth before slashing him with words that wounded. "You might keep a watch on it. For it seems not to know its own mind."

His lips tightened into a thin line as anger boiled under his skin.

Elizabeth.

This was _her_ doing.

Not the actual act of infidelity, nor the breaking of vows, or his lack of attention to Demelza over the past months that had put such doubt in her mind. No, _that_ was all on him. But for approaching Demelza in the first place. For stirring up the anger and pain that was already settling in his wife's heart.

For being the physical manifestation – the tangible reminder – of his ultimate betrayal.

A moment's silence, then he broached the subject, his voice tight with barely controlled disdain.

"I know Elizabeth came to see you today. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to…" He ran his fingers through his already untamed mess of curls, his gaze unseeing. "I don't know what in God's name was she thinking coming to you like that."

"I suppose she was looking for permission to undo the mistakes of the past." Demelza answered evenly.

Ross' brows furrowed, as he tried to grasp Demelza's meaning. "What mistakes?"

A slight shrug of Demelza's shoulders. "Her choice of Francis. Your marriage to me. Most recently, her engagement to George."

"Marrying you was _not_ a mistake." Grasping onto the most glaring error in her explanation, Ross' conviction was deep and heartfelt, but one glance at Demelza, and he swallowed hard at the sudden thought that maybe she no longer felt the same. "But…perhaps I am alone in that belief."

A pause. A question. A gaze averted. "Am I?"

"I used to think it wasn't." Demelza whispered. "Back when I believed you loved me."

Ross' eyes drifted close against the accusation. It wasn't the first time he'd heard it. Before, he'd been able to banish the doubts by showing her proof of his love. But now? With what he'd done standing as a widening chasm between them, with their bond of trust shattered, his very word doubted, he knew not how to even begin.

"And you no longer believe I do." It was a statement of fact. An admission of the reality facing him.

"Have you given me reason to?"

"In the totality of our years together, yes, I believe I have…because I _know_ that I do. All around you, Demelza, there is proof. Why won't you try to see it?" Turning to her then, his gaze was open and pleading, pained and haunted. "Demelza, I erred. Horribly, perhaps unforgivably. I will carry the shame and regret of what I've done for the rest of my life. But one bad act does _not_ negate all of the love, or the good, all that we've shared."

Demelza paused a moment, turning his words over in her mind. There was a ring of truth to them, to his earnestness, his sincerity. And yet, he had done the one thing that could – should – wipe all of it away. For how could they ever go back to what they were before?

"Perhaps."

Demelza's non-committal response irked Ross more than her continued refusal to grant him even a proper hearing. His jaw worked as his thoughts turned back to the visit that had caused this new upheaval of emotions.

"So? What did she say to you then?"

"Nothing I didn't already know." Demelza's even, cryptic answer only fueled Ross' growing despair and frustration.

"Then…" Ross turned to her, more demanding than before. "… _wha_ t did she want?"

"What she's always wanted. You." The bitterness of Demelza's tone belied her true feelings for her chief rival. "At least for now. Who knows what George will offer her tomorrow to trump your claim."

"Demelza…"

But Demelza cut him off, unwilling or unable, to hear Ross defend his precious Elizabeth. For she was sure that was what he was about to do, though, in truth, it was the farthest thing from Ross' mind.

"She also wants what I be wanting. A resolution to this thing ensnaring us all." Pulling a blade of grass from the ground, Demelza twirled it between her fingers, her gaze unfocused, unlike her thoughts as one over-ridding question formed. "May I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course." Though relieved Demelza was now conversing with him, he answered warily, still so completely, utterly unsure of the state of her thoughts.

"With Francis gone, if I were not a factor, would you be with her right now?"

Ross instantly rejected the implication of her words. "The question is moot for you _are_ a factor."

"Why? Because I'm your wife?" The sudden bitterness in Demelza's tone took Ross aback.

"No." Ross reached out and touched her then. It was the first time since that night. Words alone were not reaching her. He could see that plainly. But his touch. Perhaps, his touch, like so many times before would soften her. Weaken her anger, make her more susceptible to what he had to say. "Because of my _love_ for _you_."

With a shuddering breath, Demelza pulled her hand away from his. It took more effort than she wished. Why must he always have such an effect on her? The fire that had ignited in her the moment skin touched skin turned to ice at the lack of contact. Her eyes stung as the reality of her future sank in once more.

No Ross. No love. No more touches that threatened to burn her, melt her.

Demelza forced her thoughts in the direction they needed to go in order to do what she knew needed to be done.

"Ross, please, just answer the question."

"No, Demelza." He was reaching her, he could sense it. "Because you're asking me to imagine _my_ life without _you_. And _that_ is something I cannot, I _will_ _not_ do."

Her frank gaze met his. Assessing, analyzing, sifting through his words, determining which could be believed. Which could be discarded.

"Perhaps you will think differently when I tell you her news." She smiled then. A tight, sad smile that permeated every ounce of her being. "And perhaps even more so…when I tell you mine."

TBC…


End file.
